


Baby Don't Be Gentle, I Can Handle Anything

by haaaveyoumetted



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, I'm bad at tagging so here we are, Matchmaking, Mystery, Organized Crime, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Undercover, detective rey johnson, matchmaker leia, special agent ben solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24820477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haaaveyoumetted/pseuds/haaaveyoumetted
Summary: Loosely based on the twitter prompt: 'It has been months since Rey went undercover as a stripper at First Order club. As much as she loves dancing, she absolutely loathes cocky customers with you-owe-me attitudes. No matter how tall and broad and smoldering and fucking delicious in that suit they are. Rey hates him.Special Agent Solo decides to visit the strip club he's going to investigate before officially taking a lead on a case. Girl with a short pink wig on the main stage is breathtaking. Surely, one private dance won't hurt anybody. And technically it is preliminary field research.Except on Monday Ben Solo gets a case file and finds out about an undercover detective Johnson. Now he can't breathe for a different reason.'twitter prompt: https://twitter.com/NChubik/status/1259878689191407617?s=20
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 26
Kudos: 180
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	Baby Don't Be Gentle, I Can Handle Anything

prompt & aesthetics/moodboard by: ([x](https://twitter.com/NChubik/status/1259878689191407617?s=20))

**X x X x X x X x X**

Rey sighed heavily as she carefully pulled the bubblegum pink wig from her head, the cool air against her scalp bringing a feeling of relief; normalcy.

It had been difficult the past few months, finding moments of clarity where she felt like she was holding onto some semblance of self.

This wasn’t the first time she had been assigned an undercover case- those days were long behind her now- but this one had been particularly draining for a multitude of reasons.

A long undercover mission like this one required a certain level of dedication. A suspension of disbelief; to be able to lose yourself in the character you’re living as. You have to be a fully realized, believable person. If any part of your character had cracks or didn’t feel natural to people you interacted with living out their real lives- it could very quickly put you and anyone else involved in the case – undercover or not – in serious danger.

This was new territory for her. Every evening into the early hours of the morning, she was living as somebody else – and usually that meant changing the closes she wore, doing her makeup slightly different, and it almost always involved a wig.

This time, however, she found herself wearing almost no clothing. The scandalously skimpy dresses and the showy lingerie was all new to her. Rey had never been shy about her body. She didn’t grow up with that luxury.

But purposefully putting her body on display like she was now required a new set of skills and a completely different kind of confidence. She had spent weeks focused on toning muscles that she wasn’t used to working out, finding the types of lingerie that accentuated the right assets, the colors that worked best with her skin tone.

She’d always been active, always made sure that she would at least go for a run if she didn’t have time to do anything else. The physicality required to be able to dance anywhere from 5-7 nights a week was one of the reasons she was chosen for the case. Even the routines and all of the techniques required to use the pole cane pretty easily to her – and she enjoyed it. It was something new; a challenge, even though she learned quickly. She found that she really enjoyed the dancing – and she’d been god damn thankful for that.

She never could’ve predicted that the short pink wig and the glitz and glam of the sparkly and embellished outfits she had to wear would bring out a part of her own personality that she never realized she’d been suppressing. 

Her work didn’t leave her with much free time and going on dates had never been high on her priority list when she decided how to spend her precious free time.

She’d spent weeks where she worked on mental preparation – knowing she had to be able to act like she was comfortable in her owns skin when so much of it would be on display. She’d be uncomfortable and she’d just have to learn to work her way through it.

The other girls had been so friendly and welcomed her warmly. They had accepted her instantly and offered to show her the best moves to use and line to say to get clients to spend their time and money on her. All of their advice turned out to be extremely helpful. More than once she’d easily found herself alone with and having the fully, undivided attention of men she needed information from. But, in life, and in an undercover job especially, you had to be prepared to take the good with the bad.

And while she appreciated the opportunity to learn new skills and loved the women she worked with, the clientele that the First Order seemed to cater to and attract was… less than desirable. Most of the men that came in had money to burn, and lots of it. Always impeccably dressed, topped off with the predatory smirks and a glint in their eyes that just screamed they knew they could get whatever they wanted. The look that said they believed everything had its price and they could always afford it. It repulsed her but she had gradually become more skilled at pretending it didn’t.

That being said, the investigation was still far from over. Mentally and physically the case had really been taking it’s toll lately.

She glanced at the clock above the stove as she walked into the kitchen. 2:35am. She was lucky to even be home before 3am most nights.

Rey debated with herself for a moment whether or not she should pour herself a glass of wine and have a nice long soak in the bath. She pulled out a water bottle; she needed to sleep if she was going to make it through the next few days. Thursday would be her first night off in two weeks – only her second night off since she’d started working on the case a month ago. She would let herself indulge then.

For now, a quick shower to rinse the day away would have to do.

**X x X x X x X x X**

Ben Solo had worked hard over the past 10 years to build his career up to where it was. At 35 years old, he now had the luxury of picking and choosing what cases he wanted to take; how he wanted to spend his time in the field.

When he first joined the department, he’d had a decision to make. Use his mother’s last name and deal with her reputation in the Police Department and Justice Department follow him everywhere he went. Use his father’s name and answer a million questions about what it was like to grow up in the same house as the famed archeologist and respected professor – and have it take them at least slightly longer to connect the dots about the relation to his mother. Or use both and deal with a combination of all of it.

Ultimately, he’d chosen his father’s name. It had at least made him feel like he was making a name for himself without constantly being compared to his mother and her career. They had never worked in the same precinct, which meant they were rarely - if ever – on cases together.

It was rare for his mother to try and call in a favor.

She had her own detectives in the department that she was the head of – most of which Ben found incompetent and unprepared for this kind of work.

But he learned a long time ago the arguing with her about how she run things got them nowhere. He’d inherited her stubbornness, which he was actually thankful for… most of the time. Ben knew that it took a lot for her to swallow her pride and call him to ask for help on a case.

When she did, he couldn’t help but be curious.

The phone call on Wednesday afternoon is directly responsible for why he’s putting on one of the most expensive suits he owns at 11pm on a Friday night. He’d ironed nearly every piece of clothing on his body and spent extra time on his hair.

First Order was exclusive. _Extremely_ exclusive.

If he had showed up in anything suggesting he wasn’t there to drop big money, he’d never even make it past the door.

He promised his mother he’d scope the place out, get a feel for the case and then make his decision on if he was going to take it on.

There was a line nearly wrapped around the whole building when he arrived. He smirked to himself as he eyed the crowd, knowing at least half of them would never make it inside based on their appearance alone. He waltzed up to the front of the line with an air of confidence that he learned how to fake a long time ago.

The bouncers took one look one look at his freshly pressed, midnight black Armani suit and the Rolex on his wrist and stepped aside to let him through.

He stuttered in his confident stride only briefly as he stepped into the main room of the club. It felt like he had been transported far further than just a building on the other side of town.

He was quick to catch himself, hiding the surprise that came over him under a mask of cool indifference. He sauntered over to the bar to order a drink and give himself a few minutes to adjust and adapt to the atmosphere. This wasn’t the first time inside of a high-end strip club – but it was beyond any place he’d ever seen. Even with the money and connections his parents had.

It felt like the place was bleeding money. The walls were covered in rich, regal purples and deep blues. The lighting was dim where it wasn’t focused on the stage. It created an eerie sense of anonymity. He felt oddly exposed in the atmosphere that was supposed to soothe high end clients; to make them believe their secrets were safe here as long as they opened their wallets and paid the price.

Once a bartender put a drink in his hand, he felt ready to take the whole place in. He slowly made his way towards the stage, finding a table tucked into a corner to sit at. He hadn’t been able to deduce whether it was beneficial for him to stand out or blend in yet; and under those circumstances, starting out by blending in was always better.

He slowly sipped at his whiskey as his eyes scanned the room around him – waiting for something or someone to catch his eye.

And then she did.

Ben was used to being around beautiful women – his parents’ wealth and status _had_ provided him that.

But this woman was something else completely. Her long, tan legs seemed to go on for days; never-ending, capped off with tall silver, glittering stilettos. Black lace garters circled each of her legs and he had the urge to remove them with his teeth.

They matched the black sheer lace panties that left very little to the imagination. The bra she wore was much the same but accented with silver tassels hanging from the bottom. It was smattered with silver glitter and rhinestones that sparkled under the lights that danced above them.

The wig she wore was a short bob in bubblegum pink and only piqued his interest further. His gaze traveled up and down her body, cataloguing every detail that he could, down to the last freckle. He knew that his full attention should not be on her- but he was completely captivated by the way she moved.

And the moment she started dancing; he knew the case would come 2nd to him the rest of the night. He tried to snap himself out of it; force himself to look at anything else.

It worked temporarily, in short bursts. But his attention always wound up finding its way back to her.

It took three drinks into the evening for him to make up his mind that he was going to get her alone.

A private dance wouldn’t do any harm. No one would have to know.

He was here for research purposes; for the case.

She worked here, at the club, the place he was supposed to be scoping out. Maybe she knew something, maybe she didn’t. Either way, he needed to find out.

As soon as her set ended, he made his way out of the main seating area and over to the entrance at the other side of the room that lead to a restricted area- unless you were really willing to put your money where your mouth was. Access to the back rooms did not come cheap.

Ben nonchalantly pulled a stack of bills from his jacket pocket as he spoke to the bouncer, “I’d like to request a session with the dancer with the short pink hair.”

The bouncers at the door shared a look and a nod before one of turned to walk through the curtains, motioning for him to follow.

The whole vibe of the club shifted as they walked through, the deep purples and vibrant blues being replaced by rich reds, offset by black fixtures. It felt like he had walked into something he wasn’t meant to see- which is exactly what the case would require.

They had finally stopped walking when they reached the end of the long hallway, which then fanned out into a set of hallways, one of which was lined with curtains from one end to the other.

It created an illusion of privacy, but he doubted that such a thing existed in this place. Whoever was running things at First Order had to be keeping tabs on what went on in every corner of the building. He’d still need to be discreet in the small amount of time he’d be granted with her; to play it as close to the chest as possible.

The bouncer took a few steps forward, pulling aside one of the curtains and all but ushering him inside. As the curtain was pulled closed behind him, Ben studied the small room, immediately noticing a lack of visible video cameras – something he’d absolutely have to look into further.

He carefully took a seat on the red leather lounge that had been pushed up against the wall to the far-left side of the room.

About a minute later, she appeared from the other side of the curtain at the back of the room.

**X x X x X x X**

The energy in the room shifted as she walked into it, a thick tension filling the air as she slowly and silently made her way to his side of the room.

The first thing she noticed was how put together he was. It wasn’t necessarily rare for men who could clean up well and had money to blow to come to the club. It was those types that kept this place in business. But his suit pants, suit jacket, dress shirt and tie were all black and looked like they’d been newly purchased or freshly pressed – not a single wrinkle in sight. His shoes shined, not a single scuff mark or spec of dirt to be seen.

Even the men who waltzed in with old, bottomless money were rarely that meticulous. She knew she had been lucky to be the one to catch his attention. He looked like exactly the kind of person she needed to get information from.

His posture said it all; legs spread wide, one arm draped over the back of the lounge, looking both at ease and completely in control as he leaned back comfortably into the curve of the cushion behind him. He was an attractive man, in a way – with long, dark hair she could run her fingers through; pouty lips that looked far too soft; sinfully so.

Her eyes darted to his hands, taking in how big they were, imagining how much of her body they could cover. The suit he wore was in pristine condition; one that would’ve cost her a few months’ worth of rent at least. He held himself confidently, like most men who frequented First Order did. He was exactly the type that this place existed to draw in. She already knew this session was going to be mentally exhausting. She could sense the pretentiousness rolling off of him and she hadn’t even heard him speak yet.

She stopped walking when she was about a foot away from him, shooting him a confident smile of her own. Slowly, she inched her way into his space, placing a hand on either side of his head, resting on the top of the lounge.

His face didn’t betray any shift in emotion as she lowered herself to hover just above his lap. Her knees rested on either side of his thighs, bracketing him in completely.

He may have thought he was in control of the situation, but she was dedicated to spending the next 30 minutes showing him exactly who was in charge.

She could see it in his eyes that he had other ideas. Arrogant prick.

“I heard you flashed quite a large stack of bills to get a session with me.” She said, finally breaking the silence between them.

“I know what needs to be done to get what I want.” He replied. “Money speaks pretty damn loudly around here.”

More times than she could count, she’d had to find flirty ways to discourage men from touching and putting their hands where she didn’t want them. She learned how to guide their attention where she wanted it under the guise of teasing and playing hard to get.

Rey was learning more and more every day how to read these men like a book. She had to if they ever wanted to close the case.

His lips twitched up into a smirk as his eyes scanned her face- really taking her in. Most of the men she entertained in that room didn’t pay such close attention to her face.

“Smart man.” She replied, “And what is it that you want? What is all that money supposed to tell me about what you’re hoping to get from this?”

Her gaze remained focused on his face as she began gyrating her hips, coming dangerously close to coming in contact with his lap. She had learned quickly that enough teasing could get a man to hold his tongue; to start talking only when she prompted it.

His eyes briefly dart to her lips, then down to her chest and back up to her eyes again within the span of a second before replying, “Well sweetheart, it should tell you how much I think a minute of your time is worth, and that I’m willing to spend the money to find out what spending time with you looks like.”

The cocky, arrogant smirk never left his face as he spoke, and she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from scoffing at the term of endearment. Usually men like him were pretty clear about what they wanted from these sessions- stating it explicitly with their hands already all over her.

She couldn’t figure out why he was still partially playing coy about his intentions. “Your time with me is whatever you make of it, _handsome_.” She knew she was laying it on thick now, reaching over to run a hand through his perfectly styled hair.

She leaned in closer to whisper in his ear, “If you want me to touch you, all you have to do is say the word. If you want to touch me… well, that you have to earn.” She pulled back far enough to look into his eyes, a smirk of her own gracing her lips.

His eyebrows raised in question as he replied, “And what is it that I have to do to earn your permission to show you affection?”

This time it was her eyebrows that were raised as she replied, “show me affection or give me attention?”

His smirk widened and he answered without missing a beat. “Both. Either. Whatever it is you think I paid for here.”

Her hands slid down to rest on his broad shoulders. “Well then, seeing as I already seem to have your undivided attention, I suppose it’s permission to show your ‘affection’”, Rey replied.

“And what is it that you require of me?”

“I _require_ you to be honest with me about what you want. I may be one of the most skilled dancers in the building but asking me to read your mind could lead to more than you can handle.” She purred.

“I think you underestimate exactly how much I can handle.” He replied confidently. “You, however, skills aside, might not be ready for my honest answer.”

“Try me.” She whispered, her warm breath hitting the side of his neck, gently running her lips just too close to his jaw as she pulled back to look at him once again. She refused to back down. Clearly, he was looking for a challenge and she was ready to meet it head on. She _had_ to be.

If she missed an important piece of information that could help close the case – let it slip away because of her pride – she’d beat herself up over it for months at least.

No. She was still in charge here and he needed to be reminded of that. He held her stare in silence for one beat and then two and then-

“What does your cunt taste like?” He paused before continuing. “That’s all I’ve been thinking about since the moment I saw you on that stage.”

“I can promise you it tastes like heaven. But there’s not enough money in the world for you to buy that experience.” She replied. “I may sell glimpses of my body here but that is something that is not for sale.” She continued to gyrate her hips, never quite providing any real friction. “No client ever gets that much of me. I’m not a whore.”

“I wouldn’t pay. Not for that.” He replied, a new, playful spark in his eyes. “I can guarantee I’d make you beg for it – no money exchanging hands whatsoever.”

She let out a sharp laugh, unable to stop herself. “I suppose I’ll just have to take your word for it” Rey concedes. “You still haven’t told me what it is you want, and your time is running out.”

He moved for the first time since they started whatever this is, his hands going to her hips and squeezing gently. “Maybe I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to try and fail. And I’m sure you won’t be the last.” She replied. “What I’d like to know is why you’ve spent so much to gain so little. There has to be something you’re getting out of this.”

“What’s your name – what do I call you?”

“What’s my name or what do you call me? Two seemingly similar questions with very different answers.”

If he was going to continue to be irritatingly vague with her, the least she could do was play along; to give as good as she got.

“Both, then.”

“Well my name – that’s classified information. You don’t earn that from a session with me. You can call me Mystique.”

“Mystique?”

She smirked knowingly. “How much have you actually learned about me during the last 15 minutes that we’ve been talking? And how many times will you come back, convincing yourself that next time it’ll be different?”

His lips quirked up, clearly amused, and she continued, “If you don’t leave this room absolutely convinced that there needs to be a next time because the mystery of it all leaves you wanting and your thoughts are clouded just enough by lust to make yourself believe you’’ eventually be satisfied- feeling a desperate need to chase that, then I haven’t done my job properly.”

“I must say, you are exceeding all of my expectations. Your understanding of the thrill of the chase and how to execute it is unexpected.”

There was that arrogance again. _Asshole_.

No matter what she pursued in life people always found it so easy to underestimate her. She’d been using it to her advantage for years now – especially when she was working undercover.

“I think I can safely say there is a very intriguing detail I’ve learned about you, separate from all that.”

She couldn’t help but find herself curious.

“I think that most – if not all – clients that you entertain back here bore you. They’re not witty or interesting nor do they try to be. They don’t play the game with you. Not like I have been tonight. They let you take complete control; manipulate the situation however you want as long as their sense are stimulated.” He paused to make sure she was following before her continued. “I think you got far more than you were expecting with me tonight and that for once you’re finally having some fun. I think you’re just as intrigued by me as I am by you, Mystique. And I don’t think you were prepared for that.”

“It’s amusing when you all think you’re so different. Every client that comes in here thinks that they can’t possibly be just like everyone else – but they are.” She replied. “All of your stories may be a bit different, but the reasons you’re all here are the same. You want a fantasy – a heightened version of reality – with all of the perks and none of the strings. And it’s our job to provide you with that. It’s my job to make sure that you and every other client that walks in here believes that I desire them; that I can be their dream girl for the night. The mystery is what keeps all of this alive; what keeps them coming back. I have to be intrigued by them all, at least to some degree.”

“I think that you work hard to make sure no one actually does, and I think that we both know that with me, you’re failing.”

“You know I may have been wrong about you; you might just be the most arrogant client I’ve ever had.” She slowly removed her hands from his shoulders as she stood from where she straddled him. “I would say I hope you got exactly what you came for – but we both know that’s not true.”

She stopped at the curtain and turned to face him. “Until next time, then.”

Despite the fact that he had learned absolutely nothing relevant to the case, by the time Ben Solo left the club that night, he knew there was no way he could walk away from this case.

**X x X x X x X x X**

Every part of his body hated him the next morning as he walked into the building his mother’s team worked from at 6am; bright and early after about 3 hours of restless sleep.

His brain had just refused to shut down after the night he’d had. There were so many questions to be answered when it came to the case – and plenty new personal questions thrown into the mix after his session with Mystique. He was completely conflicted, knowing that getting tangled up in any sort of personal connections with anyone on a case was messy and highly discouraged. He more than understood why. But he had Skywalker, Solo and Organa blood running through his veins. He’d been doomed from the very start; never stood a chance.

She’d caught his attention like very few ever had, and he wanted – needed – to know more.

It was going to be a long day. He had texted his mother as soon as he woke up that he’d be stopping by to discuss the case. She’d texted back immediately letting him know she’d be there.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he pushed open the main set of doors and made his way down the hallway that eventually lead to her department.

When he finally reached the end of the corridor and entered the large room filled with at least a dozen desks, he noticed there were a few early risers at their desks, already working for the day. He was thankful that not everyone was in yet. The last thing he needed was his mother trying to introduce him to or around the whole office.

Leia’s office was situated at the very back corner of the room, her name written out on a shiny silver plaque attached to the door. He took a deep breath and raised his fist to knock lightly.

He heard a muffled ‘come in’ from the other side and nudged the door just hard enough to push it open for him to step inside.

His mother smiled at him, phone pressed to her ear, gesturing to take a seat while she finished up. He quietly closed the door behind him before taking a seat and accepting the case file she had pushed towards him on her desk.

He began reading through the details that they did have at this point; the intel her team had been able to gather since they’d started the investigation months ago. They’d made a few discoveries, but nothing solid enough to build a case on.

Towards the back of the file were more classified details, including any agents or detectives they had working the case – including those that were undercover.

It only took a split second to recognize her face. He’d know those eyes anywhere. Mystique.

His eyes widened as he took in ‘Rey Johnson’ – undercover detective - for the first time without the pink wig.

He could feel his lips quirking up into an amused smile.

Maybe all of his mother’s detectives weren’t incompetent or unprepared; maybe she’d gotten extremely lucky with this one.

He had a strong feeling that his mother had more up her sleeve than she would admit to. Their relationship had never been perfect, but he was still her son – and he would put money on the fact that she took one look at Rey and knew that he’d never turn down a mission that she was working if he saw her.

He glanced up at her and caught her stare, a knowing look on her face. He chose not to react, instead looking back down at the file in his hands.

If he’d thought Mystique had piqued his interest, he was completely unprepared for how Rey Johnson already had him wrapped around her finger.


End file.
